


Spirit on the Water

by owlpockets



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 16:10:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlpockets/pseuds/owlpockets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna ends up with a broken leg during a hunt in a beach town in Michigan.  She is <i>very</i> displeased, and Cas keeps her company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit on the Water

**Author's Note:**

> For dc_summerlovin on LJ. The prompt was "paper airplanes." Title and inspiration from a Bob Dylan song. I decided to keep the canon spelling of Castiel's name since angels are supposed to be genderless anyway.

Home Shopping Network or Judge Judy. What a choice! Deanna switched off the TV and chucked the remote to the other bed. Two channels was all she seemed to be able to get, and that was two better than the previous night. Her leg itched, but she couldn’t get the pen down far enough into the cast to scratch it. She was tired of reading the same couple of books over and over again. Sam had taken her laptop to the library, too busy with the job to play nanny. There was a large body of water outside with sand around it and Deanna couldn’t even get close to it because they hadn’t been able to find any crutches at the thrift store. Overall, it was perhaps the worst situation she could possibly imagine. Okay, well, maybe not the _absolute_ worst, but it was pretty darn high on the list.

Deanna picked up the X-rays and held one up to the light. Six weeks. She would have the cast for six weeks, the doctor said. They were heading back to Bobby’s as soon as Sam finished up. Fuck Michigan. Fuck Michigan and its stupid beaches and stupid ghosts that liked to push people off roofs and stupid motel with stupid TVs that only worked sometimes. Deanna grabbed her phone and punched out a number with more force than was strictly necessary.

On the other end, it only rang once. “Hello, Deanna.”

“Hi, Cas. I’m bored out of my skull. Are you doing anything important?”

Castiel paused on the other end, perhaps thinking how to answer that trap of a question. Deanna smiled a little when the answer was a guarded negative. “No. Where are you?”

“Holland, Michigan. Lake Ranch Resort—” Almost before she finished talking Cas appeared in the room, flipping her phone closed and slipping it into her coat pocket.

“This is a much nicer room than you usually stay in,” Cas commented, taking in the bright open windows, clean floor and kitchenette, and lack of mildew in the corners.

“Yeah, we moved over here when I broke my leg. I think Sam felt guilty.” Deanna grinned and held out her hand toward Cas invitingly. “The only problem is I can’t really enjoy any of it like this. And the TV here is shit.”

Cas stepped over to the bed, taking the outstretched hand, confused, until Deanna started using her solid strength to pull herself upright. “Shouldn’t you stay in bed?”

“No way, we’re going outside to get some sun. If I’m going to spend the next month and a half stuck like this, then I want to make the most of it. Hand me that tank top.” She gestured to one of Sam’s shirts on the other bed. 

Cas didn’t look particularly surprised, and used her free hand to grab the shirt. She steadied Deanna by holding her hips while she pulled off her T-shirt and replaced it with the tank top. The handprint on her arm was clearly visible this way, but Deanna figured in the middle of the day the other guests would be out at the beach or other parts of the town, not hanging around the docks.

After a shaky start with Cas merely holding Deanna’s elbow to balance her that almost ended in disaster, they gave up appearances and Deanna leaned heavily with her arm over the angel’s shoulders as she hobbled out the door. On the way out, she grabbed the little pad of complimentary notepaper from the dresser and stuffed it in her back pocket with the pen. Outside, getting across the green space between the rooms and the docks was a tiring team effort, and probably it would have been far easier to have Cas carry her, but Deanna wasn’t willing to let go of her pride quite that much.

The weather was stunning—eighty degrees and clear-skied, with the water of the bay lapping gently against the worn, sun-bleached wood of the private docks they were about to take advantage of. Gulls circled, but far enough out that they wouldn’t be a nuisance. Deanna’s cast thumped down gracelessly on the wood, and she stretched out awkwardly until she was sitting on the edge. Once Cas was satisfied Deanna was settled, she also perched on the edge, looking almost unbearably odd in her overcoat and business suit and heels in the warm weather.

“This is nice,” Cas commented, looking out over the water. “I can see why you wanted to come out here.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could go to the actual beach. This is fucking torture,” Deanna frowned and tried to scratch under her cast with the pen again. “We could put a garbage bag over it and go swimming anyway.”

“Deanna, no,” Cas said, a ghost of a smile teasing at her lips. “I don’t think that would work.”

“Yeah, yeah…you’re right.” Deanna sighed and started pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. “Probably,” she added, grumbling. “I just…we get so little time to ourselves anymore.”

When she turned back to Cas, she was tracking her movements in that eerie way she had, expression unreadable as always. Deanna was used to it, but she looked away nonetheless. She scratched again, feeling Cas’s eyes on her still. Finally, she threw the pen at Cas’s head, but the angel didn’t even blink. “What? Is there something on my face? Weirdo.”

“No, I just like looking at you,” Cas answered in all seriousness. “You have more freckles in the sun.”

Leave it to Cas to notice the most useless details. Yet, she couldn’t help the slight extra warmth touching her cheeks. Deanna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, they do that. Then I burn. Bright red, like a lobster.”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“Yeah, I have sort of a love-hate relationship with the sun. Sam got the good genes, I guess. She just tans and tans and tans. That bitch.” Deanna shifted sideways and pulled the pad of paper from her pocket, setting it on her lap. “Here, come closer. I wanna show you something.”

Cas scooted over, closing the gap between them until their thighs were touching. She looked over curiously; every mundane thing Deanna did seemed so much more important under that constant, non-judging gaze. It gave her butterflies in her chest, though she would jump off a tall building before admitting that to anyone but herself.

Deanna tore off a sheet of paper and started folding against her leg. “Me and Sam used to make these all the time when we were bored. There wasn’t a lot we were allowed to do when Dad was out.”

The paper took shape until it had a passable likeness to an airplane, and sent it gliding out over the bay. “That’s beautiful,” Cas commented. She thought everything human was beautiful, these days, though Deanna couldn’t fathom why.

As it turned out, she was still pretty good at making them, and the paper plane flew for a fair distance on the light lake breeze before dropping down onto the water. The gulls automatically attacked it, apparently mistaking it for something edible, and Deanna laughed. “Look at those beggars. They will literally eat anything, I guess. Here, I’ll show you how to make one.”

Deanna handed a piece of paper to Cas, and tore off a second one for herself. “It’s pretty easy, you just fold the corners in like this, then in half, and fold the wings down. That’s the simplest way.”

Cas followed along with deft fingers, and somehow hers looked so much more elegant than Deanna’s. Residual angel mojo, she figured. Not fair. “Okay, then you throw it like this.”

While Deanna’s plane sailed out easily (only to be attacked by gulls again), Cas’s ended up a couple of feet from the dock, having been thrown too hard. “Oh, I don't think I did it right.”

“Just use your wrist, not your whole arm. Okay?”

“Yes, I think I understand now.” She took the next piece of paper Deanna handed out, and this time the plane made it out to the gulls. “But I don't think those birds understand that paper is not fish.”

“Gulls think with their stomachs pretty much all the time.” Still, Deanna liked them, and liked looking at them, for the mere fact that they were not monsters. She thought maybe she could understand why Cas liked everything human so much if it was for the same reason she liked the gulls.

“That reminds me of someone,” Cas said, sly in a way that sounded strange and awkward coming from her. Obviously, she was trying to make a joke…and failing miserably.

“Are you teasing me? Because it’s not working. I hear that shit from Sam all the time.” But Deanna grinned nonetheless, because Cas was sitting next to her and they were throwing paper airplanes off a dock instead of running into the fire. For a fleeting moment Deanna wanted to quit and stay here so badly it hurt.

She shook it off, and if Cas noticed any change she didn’t say a word. Deanna laid back and tucked an arm behind her head, closing her eyes against the brightness of the sky. Next to her, she could feel Cas do the same, and the angel’s hand curled around hers. The sun was glorious. Deanna knew she would probably be sunburned later, but it would be worth the annoyance. “Besides, pie is totally health food.”


End file.
